


Home

by tqpannie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-02
Updated: 2005-10-02
Packaged: 2018-10-25 13:12:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10764960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tqpannie/pseuds/tqpannie
Summary: Ron's believed dead.  After being held captive for years can he ever find home again?





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

This wasn't a good idea…coming here now…just showing up after two years. Ron sighed as he caught a glimpse of himself in the glass door. He looked awful—he was thin even for him, his hair was long and unkempt and his beard rivaled Professor Dumbledore's.  
  
He hadn't even alerted the Ministry that he was back, or his parents. This wasn't a good plan—she was going to be furious that he hadn't followed procedure, but he couldn't wait one more moment to see her. Perhaps he would just wait until morning… camp out on her doorstep.  
  
He ran a shaking hand through his hair and his stomach grumbled—reminding him it had been several days since he had eaten. He was hungry—for two years he had been hungry—hungry for a glimpse of his family…his friends…Hermione.  
  
He had been so careless, he thought to himself, so bloody careless. His training hadn't been complete, but he had gone along on the mission as an apprentice . . . for training purposes. They had Apparated into a trap and when the smoke had cleared and the hexes had stopped flying, he was the last wizard standing. It had taken three Death Eaters to take him down—but take him down they did. He had woken up hours later trapped in a tiny cell, with Draco Malfoy taunting him from outside the bars.  
  
He wasn't sure even now what Malfoy had been trying to accomplish. Malfoy's lapdogs had subjected him to the Cruciatus Curse repeatedly and when that didn't break him, they had resorted to lashings that left scars on his back. When he never wavered from his support of Harry, they began with the mind games. They taunted him over and over—telling him that Hermione had married Krum, that Death Eaters had tortured and killed his family, and that the great Harry Potter was a hopeless drunk. Ron shook as the memories assaulted him. He should go to the Ministry…he didn't want her to see him like this…he was broken.  
  
He turned to go just as a few sprinkles of rain hit his arm. He glanced up and shook his fist at the sky—silently cursing the Gods for his predicament. He looked at the post boxes outside the building again and his eyes fell on hers. He squared his shoulders, trying to summon some of that famous Gryffindor courage, and pulled open the door.  
  
He stood outside her door for a moment, his hand poised to knock, and once again fought the urge to run. He knocked lightly, absently noticing that his hand was shaking, and when he heard the locks, his heart raced.  
  
The door swung open slowly and his knees almost buckled when he got his first look at her. Her hair was longer and less bushy, she was pale, and she was biting her lip. But, he was absolutely certain he had never seen her look more beautiful.  
  
"Hi ya, Hermione," he said hoarsely.  
  
"Why did you bother to knock? You should have just come inside."  
  
She turned and headed back into her flat and he followed, pushing the door shut behind him. He couldn't stop looking at her, drinking her in, as she gracefully moved to a small octaganal table and she picked up a glass to take a large gulp of the amber liquid inside.  
  
"I knew you'd come back to haunt me. I told Harry you would. You always had to have the last word."  
  
Ron was incredibly confused and his puzzlement must have showed on his face. She smiled slightly and lifted her glass in a silent toast. He took a step towards her and he caught a whiff of her perfume. It was a flowery scent, one that he had never smelled before and once again, he was painfully reminded of how much he had missed over the past two years.  
  
"You know… the last word… I won that last row we had." Hermione huffed. "Don't tell me you've forgotten."  
  
"You did not win! I just let you think you won."  
  
"I was right, wasn't I?" She arched her eyebrow at him and took a step towards him, "I've really missed you."  
  
"Blimey, Hermione, I've missed you so much."  
  
He started towards her, desperate to close the distance between them, to hold her in his arms, and he saw a tear run down her cheek.  
  
"Harry would normally be here. We usually toast you together, but he's on a mission in France."  
  
She took another hesitant step towards him and stumbled. He leapt forward catching her before she could fall. He stood her up straight again and found he couldn't move his hand from her skin. She was so warm and he had been cold for so long.  
  
His eyes met hers and he saw they had widened in surprise.  
  
"Wait a minute…I shouldn't be able to feel you…"  
  
He saw her hands tremble in time with her lower lip. She reached up and touched his face with her fingertips.  
  
"You're real…I can feel you…"  
  
Tears were spilling down her cheeks and her ragged breathing filled the room.  
  
"Of course I'm real! What did you think I was, a ghost?"  
  
"They said you were dead…you're not dead…"  
  
Her eyes rolled back in her head and she pitched forward against him. He lifted her into his arms and laid her down on the sofa. Dead? What did she mean by that? He certainly wasn't dead, and he felt more alive than he had in the last two years.  
  
He knelt down in front of the couch and studied her. She hadn't changed much—she looked thinner, but she was the same Hermione. He stroked her cheek and marveled at how soft it was. He should wake her…he instinctively reached into his pocket for his wand before remembering he'd lost it two years ago.  
  
"Hermione, wake up."  
  
He saw her eyelashes flutter and then her eyes flew open. They darted across his features and her bottom lip began quivering again. She sat up slowly and reached her hand out then drew it back quickly.  
  
"You can touch me…I'm real…"  
  
Her hands flew to his face, her fingers tracing his cheekbones, his nose, and when he closed his eyes they brushed over his eyelashes.  
  
Without warning she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his neck. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair softly. He could feel her tears wetting the collar of his shirt.  
  
"They said…" she sobbed, pressing her lips to his neck. "They found your wand…said you were dead…snapped in half…"  
  
He could feel her body shaking as she sobbed. He wanted to comfort her, tell her everything was okay, but the words stuck in this throat. He was forced to settle for stroking her hair softly and pressing small kisses to the top of her head.  
  
"Sorry… so sorry…" she mumbled against his neck. "Stupid…really stupid row…so many things..."  
  
"Shhh…" Ron pressed his lips to the top of her head again, "I'm home, Hermione. Everything will be okay."  
  
"So many things left unsaid…never thought you'd ever be gone…second chance…"  
  
Ron felt his heart race at her words and opened his mouth to speak. A loud rumbling filled the room and Hermione drew back from him laughing.  
  
"You're hungry! Why didn't you say something?"  
  
"Hermione, I need to tell you—"  
  
"I'll fix you something to eat," she said wiping the tears that were still streaming down her cheeks, "Then you can tell me what happened."  
  
"But—"  
  
"You need to take a shower, too!" She continued, ignoring his attempt to interrupt her, "You stink."  
  
"Oi! Your best friend returns after two years and the first thing you do is tell him he stinks!" Ron grumbled and stood up. He offered her a hand up and continued, "Honestly, it's not like I had the opportunity to take a shower before now."  
  
Hermione took his hand and entwined their fingers, "Ron, where have you been? What happened?"  
  
He was unable to meet her eyes and looked away. He didn't want to go into what happened—where he had been—or how he'd gotten free. The memories were too raw, too close to the surface. If he told her now he would breakdown completely and for now, he just wanted to savor being alive and with Hermione.  
  
He drew her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. He, closed his eyes against the onslaught of emotions the simple gesture evoked. He lowered her hand to his chest, knew for certain she could feel the rapid beat of his heart and felt his ears go hot.  
  
"Not yet—I just want—I need to not think about it now." Ron managed to stammer out, "I just want to be here with you."  
  
He opened his eyes and met hers—willing her to see what talking about the last two years would cost him. He found both understanding and acceptance in her brown eyes and sighed in relief.  
  
"All right," she whispered. "When you're ready."  
  
They stood there for several moments, staring at each other, and Ron lowered his lips to her cheek. His lips tingled when they met the smooth skin of her cheekbone and for the first time in two years his eyes welled with tears.  
  
"Thanks," he said softly, drawing away from her, "Now, I believe you were going to feed me."  
  
She shook her head as if to clear it and untangled their fingers. She threw herself forward again and he caught her in his arms. Her arms entwined around his neck and she squeezed hard.  
  
"I've missed you! Missed you begging for food!"  
  
He heard laughter filling the room and realized that it was his own. He hadn't heard it in so long that the sound startled him.  
  
"You're laughing at me," she said, releasing him. "Merlin, I even missed you laughing at me."  
  
She pushed his chest hard and forced him to take a step back, " Bathroom is down the hall on your left, I'll start supper."  
  
She turned to go and Ron was tempted to follow her into the kitchen. Instead he forced himself to head down the narrow hallway. Before shutting the door he couldn't stop himself from calling out, "I hope you learned to cook since I've been gone."  
  
"Oh shut up, you prat!" She called back, and Ron couldn't keep back the grin that crossed his face.  
  
He shut the door and crossed to the shower stall. He turned on the water as hot as it would go and disrobed. He caught a glimpse of his body in the mirror and grimaced. Scars criss-crossed his chest and bruises still ran over each of his protruding ribs. He studied his face in the mirror, surprised to find deep frown lines etched into the corners of his mouth and on his forehead. He shook his head when he found several gray hairs highlighting the hair on his chest and head. He looked as though he had aged twenty years in the two that he had been gone.  
  
He forced himself away from the mirror and stepped into the shower. The hot water slid across his skin, stinging the still open lashes on his back, and he picked up the soap and worked it in to a thick lather. It was surprising, he though,t as he ran his hands across his chest, scrubbing away two years of filth; it was surprising how easily he and Hermione had slipped back into their casual banner. She was still amazing—the only person besides Ginny who could ever match wits with him without faltering. She was every bit as beautiful as she had been the day he left and his love for her hadn't changed. It still was just as strong and his desire to make love to her was the same hot heat furled in his belly.  
  
Ron turned to face the showerhead and let the water run down his face. He tried desperately to banish the thoughts of driving into Hermione as she lay writhing beneath him. He needed to give her time…time to get use to the idea of him loving her before he made such a bold move. He felt himself harden and fought an inner battle with himself as images of Hermione danced through his mind. He could touch himself until he came shouting her name, as he had done so many times before. He could slide his hand up and down his hard cock and picture her bent over the kitchen table as he took her from behind. His hand wandered down his chest and stopped just before he reached his cock. He couldn't do this with her in the other room full of concern about him. He shook himself and tried to picture Snape making love to McGonagall. His erection withered almost immediately and he was pleased his old trick for suppressing his desire for her still worked.  
  
He stayed under the hot stream of water until it started to go lukewarm. Reluctantly, he turned it off and stepped out of the shower to grab a towel and tie it loosely around his waist. He shook the water from his hair and wished desperately that he had his wand so he could give himself a trim. The beard could stay, but his hair was much too shaggy.  
  
He grimaced when he caught a whiff of the perfumed soap he had been forced to use, but a part of him was more pleased that there was no manly soap in the shower. It meant she wasn't entertaining men in her home; he couldn't stop the wave of relief that flowed over him. He didn't want her to be lonely but he just couldn't stand the thought of her with anyone else.  
  
A knock on the bathroom door startled him from his thoughts and he pulled the door open to reveal a very uncharacteristically shy Hermione.  
  
"I brought you something to wear."  
  
He heard her breath catch and watched as her eyes traced the lines of his chest. He saw them wander down, seemingly fixated on the line of hair that ran from his chest, to his navel and then below the towel. He cleared his throat and immediately her eyes snapped to his.  
  
"See something you like?"  
  
She flushed bright red and held out a bright pink dressing gown, "Here, it's all I've got. It should do."  
  
"I'm not wearing that! Bloody Hell, it's pink!"  
  
"Fine—if you'd prefer to eat completely starkers, it's fine by me."  
  
He snatched the offending fabric from her hands and lowered his hands to the towel at his waist. She turned her back, looking away from him, and he chuckled softly.  
  
"Maybe you prefer that I wear this—being starkers doesn't bother me at all."  
  
He listened to her huff as he tied the belt and was delighted to find out that he still could push each and every one of her buttons.  
  
"You can turn around, Hermione. I'm all pretty now."  
  
He saw a flicker of desire in her eyes as they studied him and he knew, without question, that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He took a step towards her, stretching out a hand to touch her, and almost shouted in frustration when his stomach grumbled again.  
  
"Dinner is almost ready," she said, her voice was husky and an octave lower than normal, "Come on; I'll show you where the kitchen is."  
  
"Hermione—could you do me a favor? Could you cut my hair?"  
  
Hermione pulled her wand out of the pocket of her jeans and grinned, "I was afraid you would want to keep it long…like Bill's."  
  
Ron suddenly grinned, "Bet it would draw old Fleur Delacour's attention."  
  
"Fleur Weasley," Hermione answered and waved her wand. "She and Bill got married last Christmas."  
  
Ron felt his hair retreating and glanced at himself in the mirror. His hair was shorter…not as short as his mum would like it, but shorter.  
  
"Bill's married? What about the others?"  
  
A fervent need built inside him for news of his family. Hermione had turned and was rummaging in the medicine cupboard for something and he grabbed her arm.  
  
"Tell me about them…please…"  
  
She turned back to face him holding a pair of scissors and a razor in her hand.  
  
"Sit down…I'm going to make you presentable."  
  
Ron sat down and she pushed his legs apart so that she could stand between them. She grasped his beard in her hand and then cut a section all the way to his chin.  
  
"Harry finally came to his senses about Ginny—only after she'd dated Oliver Wood for about six months. He saw them snogging one night outside The Leaky Cauldron."  
  
"What did he do?"  
  
"He went to the Burrow the next day and told Ginny she should be with him, and she laughed."  
  
Ron couldn't help but grin at the image of Ginny laughing at Harry. He could almost hear her laughter filling the small bathroom.  
  
"It took him three weeks to convince her that he was serious. They're getting married in September."  
  
"What about the twins? How's their shop? Are they married?" Ron fired off the questions rapidly as Hermione reached over to wet the razor in the water.  
  
She slowly stroked the razor down his jaw line and he couldn't help but wonder where she learned how to help men shave.  
  
"Hermione—where did you learn to do this?"  
  
"My Dad…when I was a little girl, he used to let me help him."  
  
"Oh…"  
  
"Honestly," she laughed. "Do you think I've been practicing on Viktor?"  
  
His hand flew to her wrist and he stilled her hand. She looked down on him and he saw the confusion in her eyes.  
  
"Don't even joke about that right now."  
  
"Ron?"  
  
He flinched at the memory of the images that Draco had planted in his head…the images that still haunted him night after night. His eyes slid closed as they assaulted him—pictures of Hermione promising her life to that git… kissing him… making love to him… bearing his children.  
  
"They told me you had married Viktor," he whispered, "They had pictures."  
  
"Oh, Ron, and you believed them? I told you Viktor and I were just friends."  
  
He felt the cool metal of the razor scraping on his skin, he could smell the vanilla of her shampoo, and his head swam. He wanted to take her in his arms…reassure himself that she'd never been married… In his heart he hoped that maybe…just maybe…she had never moved forward.  
  
"Done," she said softly, brushing the stray bits of shaving cream from his jaw, "You look human again."  
  
Her hands lingered on his jaw and her thumb brushed along his bottom lip. He opened his eyes to find her staring at him as if trying to memorize his features. Her thumb caused his lips to tingle and sent sparks shooting directly to his groin. He darted his tongue out and touched her thumb with the tip. He noticed her eyes darkening and his hands fell to her waist holding her in place.  
  
"Hermione…" He said hoarsely.  
  
"Ron…" She answered.  
  
He felt her fingertips tremble against his face. Her head was lowering, coming so close he could feel her breath against his lips, smell the hint of peppermint. She was going to kiss him and he tilted his head forward to meet her lips.  
  
An insistent buzzing filled the flat and Hermione pulled back abruptly. She bit her lip as she gazed down at him. He could read the regret on her face and he let a heavy sigh escape his lips.  
  
"Supper . . . it's ready."  
  
She moved away and he followed her out of the bathroom, cursing the bloody timer under his breath.  
  
She motioned for Ron to sit down when they reached the kitchen and he allowed the smell of the food to waft over him. His mouth watered and he all but drooled when she sat a plate of Shepherd's Pie in front of him.  
  
"It's your favorite—your Mum gave me the recipe."  
  
Ron didn't reply… He shoveled food into his mouth, letting it melt on his tongue. He had been able to ignore the hunger up until this very moment and letting it overcome him, he ate with relish. He savored every bite and she already had another plate ready when he finished the first.  
  
"Aren't you going to eat?" He asked between bites.  
  
"I ate earlier."  
  
"So finish telling me about everyone!"  
  
"Fred and George's shops are doing splendidly. They have one in Diagon Alley, another in Hogsmeade; they're getting ready to open new stores near Durmstrang and Beauxbaton's."  
  
"Are they married?" Ron asked, his mouth full of food.  
  
"Fred and Angelina got married six months after you disappeared. George… you're not going to believe this… George and Tonks live together. Apparently, they've been shagging since they met."  
  
"No! I would never have guessed that!"  
  
Hermione smiled and took a drink from her glass of wine, "Charlie is in Romania—he's involved in a rather heated romance with Lavender Brown."  
  
Hermione looked as though she disapproved and he raised his eyebrow at her.  
  
"What's wrong with that?"  
  
"Well, err… nothing, she just still…giggles a lot.  
  
"Your Mum and Dad are well—Oh my gosh, you don't know about your Dad!"  
  
"No…they only gave me bad news… Never anything worth hearing."  
  
"Your Dad is Minister of Magic—elected unanimously."  
  
Ron felt a bit faint…He'd seen that in his mind so many years ago.  
  
"I bet he's brilliant, isn't he?"  
  
"Ron, he's revolutionized the Wizarding World. He fought for the rights of Werewolves and House Elves. Winky works for your Mum. Helps keep the house running."  
  
"What about Percy?"  
  
Hermione face darkened and she looked as though she'd eaten something particularly distasteful. She had wrinkled her nose in disgust and threw her hands up.  
  
"No one knows where he is," she said furiously, "He was suspected…"  
  
He saw a glimpse of fear in her eyes and waited impatiently for her to continue.  
  
"Of what? Tell me, Hermione!"  
  
"He was accused of feeding information to the Death Eaters that lead to your death. The evidence was overwhelming—they'd been investigating him. He disappeared the night before they were going to take him into custody."  
  
"You mean…you're telling me my own brother is the reason I've spent the last two years in hell?"  
  
Ron stood up and began pacing the room. He wanted to hit something—break something—tear the room apart.  
  
"Ron—"  
  
"Do you know what they did to me… hours of the Cruciatus Curse…they whipped me…and when that didn't break me, they taunted me… told me everyone was dead…that Harry was a drunk . . . that you were fucking Krum. "  
  
He slammed his hand into the wall, "I was lucky to get away! They were planning to kill me in the morning! You know what saved me?"  
  
Ron slammed his hand hard against the wall, again and again. He only stopped when she grabbed his arm.  
  
"Stop it! You're going to hurt yourself."  
  
"Did you see my back? The scars across my chest?" He untied the dressing gown and lowered it down his shoulders, "Look! Every night, it was the same thing—bread and a glass of water—then a lashing with a leather whip."  
  
He pulled the dressing gown back up and retied it. He turned to look down at her and saw a glaze of tears in her eyes. He should stop… He shouldn't continue.  
  
"That last night—they fed me. Steak and kidney pie, a glass of butterbeer, and a bar of Honeydukes chocolates for dessert."  
  
"You don't have to…"  
  
"No—I need to tell you. I've said too much already, but I need to tell you what Percy took from me!"  
  
"He took from all of us."  
  
"That last night," he said, reaching for her hand, "I was shaken awake sometime after midnight. The cell was always kept dark and all I could hear was a woman's voice. She said she was releasing me—that I needed to run because they would discover I was gone in a matter of minutes. I asked her why she was helping me after so long."  
  
Ron fell silent for a moment before continuing. He felt Hermione's grasp tighten on his fingers and he managed to choke out the last of his story, "She said she owed my mum…that my mum had saved her life and that she would repay the debt by saving mine."  
  
He heard Hermione's gasp of surprise and could almost see the wheels turning in her head.  
  
"Malfoy!" She spat out, "He's had you all this time? Told you all those lies?" She laid her hand on his chest and traced her fingertips over the scar revealed near his neck. "Malfoy did this to you?"  
  
"Oh no… Malfoy wouldn't lower himself to beatings…he let someone else do it for him."  
  
Ron pulled her to him and buried his head in her shoulder, finally allowing his sobs to break free. To his shame, his sobs echoed through the room—hoarse and unyielding. His knees gave out and she sank to the floor with him. She held him to her, stroking his hair, and he tightened his grip around her waist.  
  
"Shhh… Ron, I'm here…I'm here for you… love you so much…"  
  
He had barely registered her words when he raised his head from the crook of her neck.  
  
"What did you say?" He held his breath, not daring to believe what he had just heard. He willed her to say it again…he needed to hear it again so that at last, he might believe it.  
  
"I love you," she whispered. "I've loved you since the day we met."  
  
He drew her close and felt her shudder against him. His heart was racing and his palms were sweaty. He looked into her eyes and read the truth there—she was telling the truth. He also saw the fear…fear that he didn't feel the same…that he didn't want her.  
  
"You kept me going," he whispered and brushed his lips against hers, "You kept me sane…the thought of coming home to you saved me a thousand times."  
  
She was trembling in his arms and it was then that he realized he was shaking too. He swallowed past the huge lump that had formed in his throat and forced the words out.  
  
"I swore when I got out of there I would tell you that I love you," he continued. "My biggest regret in that hell hole was that I had been too much of a prat to tell you as soon as I figured it out."  
  
"When did you…I mean how long…" She whispered.  
  
"I realized it at the end of fourth year . . . just never got around to telling you."  
  
He saw her eyes widen and fill with tears. If he lived to be a hundred he would never understand the way a woman's mind worked. Why was she crying? He brushed the tears spilling down her cheeks with his thumbs before stroking her bottom lip with his fingertips.  
  
"Why are you crying?"  
  
She seemed to be weighing her thoughts carefully in her mind, searching for the exact right thing to say, and what spilled from her lips made his stomach tighten into a knot of desire.  
  
"Make love to me…"  
  
She pulled away from him and offered her hand to help him stand up. He knew he had to look like a total git standing there opening and closing his mouth, but he couldn't speak—couldn't breathe. She raised her hands to her blouse and slid open the first button and then the second.  
  
"Stop."  
  
Hurt flashed quickly across her face, replaced almost instantly with regret and embarrassment. She lowered her head and he watched a teardrop fall on the floor.  
  
"You don't want me?"  
  
He grabbed her hand and pulled it down his chest. Her eyes widened when he pressed it firmly to his erection and whispered, "I've wanted you for so long. I just wanted to be the one to undress you… peel off every stitch of clothing and taste you."  
  
He claimed her mouth with his last words and growled when her tongue darted out to meet his. He threaded one hand through her hair and with the other roughly pushed her blouse off her shoulders. In the back of his mind he knew he should be gentle, but years of suppressed passion and desire were causing his mind to fog over.  
  
Hermione's hands were untying the dressing gown and she pushed it from his shoulders. She wrenched her mouth from his and trailed kisses down his neck. She paused to suckle on the soft skin where his shoulder and neck met and he tilted his head back to allow her access.  
  
He struggled with the clasp of her bra and gave a soft cry of triumph when it opened. He brushed it off her shoulders and trailed his fingers behind it. He could feel the gooseflesh rising on her arms as he slid his hands back up them.  
  
"Are you cold?"  
  
Her lips were tracing the line of one of his scars across his breastbone and he heard her mumble that she wasn't cold. His thumbs brushed against her nipples and he felt them pucker under his touch.  
  
His mind went blank instead he felt her teeth graze his nipple and he moaned deep in his throat. She was trailing kisses lower, across the plain of his stomach, and he thought he might faint when she dropped to her knees before him.  
  
His legs shook as she ran her finger along the underside of his shaft.  
  
"Tell me," she said softly, "tell me what you want."  
  
"Hermione…"  
  
She darted her tongue out and flicked it against the head of his cock. He heard himself whimper and she looked up at him and smiled.  
  
"Tell me…"  
  
"Fuck! Hermione, take me in your mouth!"  
  
Her mouth closed over him and his eyes rolled back in his head. He had imagined so many times what it would feeling like to be throbbing inside her mouth. He moaned as the warmth of her mouth trailed up and down his length. He couldn't remember ever being this hard. Her hands were squeezing his arse, pulling him further into her mouth and she hummed against his length.  
  
"Harder…suck me harder…" he growled out and cried out her name when she complied. His hips thrust forward into her mouth and she moaned against his cock, sending wonderful vibrations directly to his balls.  
  
He thought he would die when her hand slid to her center and he watched her legs spread to allow her finger to rub herself frantically. She was thrusting her hips forward each time she descended on his cock and Ron felt heat unfurling his stomach.  
  
"Touch yourself…mmm…Merlin…that's fucking brilliant…"  
  
He entwined his hands in her hair and she let him guide her motions along his shaft. His eyes darted from where she was caressing herself to her mouth sliding along his length.  
  
"Hermione…stop…gonna come…too good…" he managed to growl out.  
  
She moaned against his cock, her hand worked faster between her legs, and she used her lips to suck her way back up to his tip. Without further warning his release was upon him, and he closed his eyes against the onslaught of pleasure. He saw sparks behind his eyes and the heat in his belly grew more intense as it spread over his body. He didn't know how he managed to remain standing, but he did, and she kept her mouth on him until he was spent.  
  
He opened his eyes and looked down at her. She looked pleased, wanton, and aroused beyond anything he'd ever seen before—her curls spilled around her face and he could see a light sheen of sweat covering her forehead.  
  
He pulled her to her feet and took the hand she'd used to pleasure herself. He drew it up to his lips and darted his tongue along her fingers, sliding between them, before drawing them into his mouth and sucking. He released them with an audible pop when he heard her moan.  
  
"You taste good," he bent and kissed her lips softly, "Will you let me taste you?"  
  
"I've never…no one's ever…" She answered, biting her lip and flushing bright red.  
  
"I'll stop if you don't like it. Please, I dreamed of tasting you…hearing my name fall from your lips."  
  
He kissed her neck and suckled the smooth skin there. He could feel her weakening and took her breast into his hand, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She moaned softly and he could feel her body tremble. His hand lifted her breast as his head lowered to capture the peak of her nipple between his lips. He laved it with his tongue and drew a loud moan from her. Her nails dug into his shoulders and she shifted restlessly against him.  
  
He slid his hand down past the slight swell of her stomach and touched the damp curls between her legs. He watched her head fall back and could hear her raspy breathe. He slid his finger through her folds, groaning when he felt how wet she was, and then circled her clit with his fingertip. Her knees buckled and he wrapped his free arm around her to keep her standing.  
  
"So wet… will you let me taste you?" His voice sounded foreign to his own ears, "So wet for me…"  
  
"Please…please…I need…"  
  
He felt her resistance to the idea slip completely away as he claimed her lips. He pushed his tongue past her lips to duel with hers. He lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He felt her wetness brush along the underside of his cock as she settled against him. He hardened again instantly and was amazed by the power she held over his body.  
  
He walked backwards out of the kitchen, never breaking his contact with her lips, and her hands, snaking through his hair, created tingles all along his scalp. The back of his knees hit the arm of the sofa and he spun around. He lowered her over the arm and trailed his hands down her body. He teased her nipples with his fingertips once again and she arched her back. She grabbed his wrist, trying to lower his hand to her center, and he merely took her hips in his hands and pulled her so her arse was resting on the arm of the couch.  
  
"You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered as he ran his hands along her thighs. Her legs fell apart and his eyes met hers, "So beautiful."  
  
He knelt down and trailed his tongue along her inner thigh, nibbling and then licking the soft flesh there.  
  
He raised his head to find her watching him. He slid his finger through her folds again and her mouth dropped open in a silent moan.  
  
"Do you want me to touch you?" he whispered, not breaking eye contact, "Do you want my mouth on you?"  
  
"Yes…"  
  
"Ask me for it…tell me you want me… tell me you want me to make you come."  
  
Her eyes widened at his bold words and he traced her folds with his finger. She lifted her hips trying to get closer and he pulled his hand away.  
  
"Ron…"  
  
"Say it, Hermione!"  
  
"Put your mouth on me… please… touch me…make me come… Ron, please make me come…"  
  
He lowered his mouth to her center, tracing her lips with his tongue before sliding between them. He swirled his tongue around her opening. He could spend months savoring her taste, her scent…it was driving him mad. His cock was throbbing painfully between his legs and the image of driving into her filled his head.  
  
"So good… oh god… that's so good…"  
  
Her words spurred him forward and he drew his tongue to a point and thrust deep inside her, before sliding out and teasing her clit with his lips.  
  
"More… please… more…"  
  
He slid a finger inside her, surprised at the renewed moisture under his tongue, and then another. He slid his tongue over and around her clit as he moved his fingers in and out of her. Her hips were arching upward to meet his hand and she was calling out his name.  
  
"I'm there…I think… I'm going to come! Ron!"  
  
He felt her tighten around his fingers and he sucked her clit again between his lips. She pulled his hair hard as she came, calling out his name over and over. It echoed in his head, and before she could come down from her release, he stood and poised himself at her entrance.  
  
She opened her eyes and met his as he lifted her legs around his waist.  
  
"Ron…I haven't…"  
  
Her words were echoing in his head as he thrust inside her. He felt her stiffen in shock, and saw a wince of pain cross her features.  
  
"Hermione…oh god…" He whispered and held himself still.  
  
"It's okay…just give me a minute…" She panted and shifted her hips against him, eliciting a groan from both of them.  
  
Their eyes locked and she wriggled her hips again.  
  
"It's okay…feels better…" she whispered, "you can move…"  
  
"I hurt you," he whispered back, "I never thought."  
  
He began moving slowly, ignoring the painful ache in his belly. His eyes never left hers and he watched as she threw her head back and the pleasure of feeling him buried inside her registered on her face.  
  
"Love you…" she moaned, "love you, Ron."  
  
He increased his rhythm and she lifted her hips to meet his downward thrust. He slid his hand between them and rubbed her center in slow circles designed to drive her mad.  
  
"Open your eyes…watch us…" He growled as he drew almost all the way out before burying himself inside her again. She was hot and wet…the sound of their bodies slapping together, the smell of sex in the air, spurring him forward.  
  
"So tight…wet…feel so good inside you…" he growled as he thrust into her hard, "Do you like feeling me inside you?"  
  
"Yes…harder…deeper…I need to feel you deeper…"  
  
"Put your legs over my shoulders…I want to bury myself so far inside you I can't tell where you begin and I end."  
  
When she complied, he sank deeper inside her and felt her muscles clenching him. He thrust against her blindly, angling his hips so he could brush against her clit with every downward stroke.  
  
Her hands flew to his on her hips and she entwined their fingers together as her hips rose and fell to meet his.  
  
"So close…come with me, Ron."  
  
He felt her tightening around his cock and the heat built in his belly again. All at once she was calling his name out, and he heard his own voice shouting hers as he thrust hard against her a final time.  
  
He collapsed over the arm of the sofa and trembled against her. Her body was shuddering beneath his and she lifted her head to kiss his forehead.  
  
He took several deep breaths and looked down at her. She was amazing…she'd given herself to a git like him…without questioning whether or not he was worth it.  
  
"I didn't know…I assumed you'd been with someone," he whispered, "Luv, I'm sorry… I would have been gentler."  
  
"It was perfect…I never found anyone I wanted the way I wanted you."  
  
He pulled out of her and she reached for her wand. She pointed it at the fireplace and whispered, "Inflamari" and the fire sprung to life.  
  
He grabbed the throw from the back of the sofa and settled in behind her. She leaned back against him and he wrapped his arms around her waist.  
  
"You know, I think we need to get you home to the Burrow soon."  
  
He tightened his grip around her waist and kissed the top of her hair. He wasn't ready to see them all…wasn't ready for the questions.  
  
"In your pink dressing gown!" he joked, "Fred and George would never quit having the mickey on me."  
  
"At least let me owl Harry—"  
  
"Not yet…tonight I just want to be with you…celebrate being alive."  
  
She leaned her head back against his shoulder. Her long hair caressed the skin there and he shivered. He looked down at her and saw she wanted to understand.  
  
"Don't you want to go home?" She asked, trying to stifle a yawn.  
  
"Don't you understand, Hermione?" he whispered, "I am home—wherever you are is home."  
  
"I love you Ron," she said sleepily, and her eyes drifted shut.  
  
"I love you too."  
  
Hermione smiled happily in his arms and snuggled further against him. He felt sleep coming upon him fast, but he stared at the fire for a bit before allowing sleep to take him.  
  
"I'm home," he muttered as he drifted off to sleep, "I'm home."


End file.
